Untitled

 

powerful emotion conquers knowledge

you are my truth

terrestrial heart loses its edge

Naomi for Ruth

 

planets fear the literary drought

desire ignites

erratic heart thumps and shouts

awaiting invite

 

established reason vanquished

without effort

lifelong sense is banished

to live in yourt

 

reaction to your presence

in mind or sight

drowning with concupiscence

desired outright

(1998)

© Marjorie H Morgan 2017

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Antiques

CR Books 1 IMG_2798

There is nothing wrong with antiques

I say that because

I am one

I frequently hear that

even the clothes of my youth are referred to as ‘vintage’

however, it is an immutable truth that

you can not make a new antique

any more than you can make an old friend

it’s a form of sorcery

how aged relationships dilate time

like wave machines

flinging water in every direction

yet no fear of drowning is present.

In other worlds

nascent bad energy reproduces itself

flowing around constantly leaping across people points

inflicting damage on new contacts

until

someone gets grounded

with old wisdom

and breaks the circuit

© Marjorie H Morgan 2017

A chain of kindness

When asked for help, and that request is well within your abilities, it is no hardship to acquiesce. Kindness is not hard to achieve, especially when the person asking also has a history of charity – just for the sake of it.

So it was a short while ago in my small world.

A friend, with who I have spent many pleasant hours just “being” asked me to help him put some thoughts into poem form. He said he was stuck. Stuck trying to verbalise the thought of being stuck in a chrysalis state but desperately needing to move on. We sat and talked in more about his idea, his situation, and then I took some notes from him as guidance. Together we discussed options about his request and I said I’d give it a go.

A while later, I had gathered his thoughts together and moved them around to create something that felt like it could reflect his intentions: I shared it with my friend and I’m pleased to say he was deeply content with the result.

That was the end of that, so I thought. But no, as with chains there are connecting links, pins, rivets and rollers that go on beyond the original single connection. What I initially thought was just between us two developed into something bigger than us both.

It was a few weeks letter that I’d heard from my friend again; he was ecstatic to share some news regarding our poem. I was told that he had shared it with a profession therapist, who in turn had asked permission for it to be used on the wall of her office, because it was her feeling that others could benefit from the sentiments within the writing – of course this was agreed to.

The next surprise was when my friend told me he had asked a graphic designer to visually represent the words that I had written – this was done without cost, as the graphic designer wanted to help this small project to expand. The chain of kindness kept getting longer when my friend wanted it printing, as the printer agreed to do several copies without charge for the poem and the process of its conception intrigued them (also, the kind initiator or this request was well known to the printer: his reputation preceded him, as reputation does with most people).

From an initial thought between friends over coffee and a chat in a local cafe, a few words have become a poem that is now being shared, freely, around the world.

It is fuelled by kindness as it continues to travels. It was recently heard of touching hearts in Australia after it was shared by a friend in Wales with another friend on the other side of the world.

When we sit and consider others, as we ask and freely give what we are able to into the world, it reminds me that we are all linked by a chain, and it’s so much better to be linked by a chain of kindness in words, deeds and actions than by any negativity.

The poem was about a butterfly flying, this poem has done just that and flown around the world: the whole concept emerged from single thought into a worldwide chain of kindness and sharing. For me that’s a beautiful and blessed occurrence that I am happy to be a small part of.

(Below are the simple words created in November 2016 – attached is the graphic representation of these thoughts.)

Butterfly, butterfly
let your wings dry
then always, always,
fly, fly, fly!

Butterfly, butterfly
dance each day
sway and sashay
do as you may

Show your self –
do not hide
the unique statement you hold
inside

Your body is a work of art,
aerobatic displays
are all a part
of the expressions
of freedom and joy –
your heart’s concessions:
do not be coy.

You somersault
as if
you care
for naught
but your nectar-filled tongue
and twirls
with the sun
lift you to soar –
fresh reminders of
the freedom
lining your core.

Butterfly, butterfly
fly
fly
fly
with bright strong wings
to lift you high
find pleasure in each new branch,
there is no reason
to look back and sigh,
there is no reason,
no reason ‘why …’

the chrysalis of the past
was the needed
womb of now,
change in life comes so fast
that joyful wonder
is the new fresh vow,
‘being’ constantly alters
and your wings sometimes falter
but
butterfly, butterfly
inhabit just now
that is the only way how …

Butterfly, butterfly
let your wings dry
then always, always,
fly, fly, fly!

© Marjorie H Morgan 2017

 

CR Butterfly butterfly IMG_3129.jpg

Elegant

Her constructed elegance

was weak scaffolding

against her deep pain

the painted-on beauty

peeled

away more quickly

with each layer

it took years to understand

that the ersatz show of contentment

hid the decades-long struggle

within her mind

between boredom and personal disappointment

the vampire-like infusion of other people’s

joy

peace

happiness and love

never took hold in her

she discarded their drained bodies in her wake

frustrated that the dawn mirror

always told her the truth

as she remodelled

her decaying frame anew

without success.

©Marjorie H Morgan 2017

Dreaming

Dreaming

Where do you go to

when you eyes

are open

but closed to all around?

Where do you go to

when it’s busy

about you

but you hear not a sound?

Where do you go to

when the pressure is heavy

or the pleasure is full?

Where,

oh where,

do you go to

that you have to go alone?

I go, my dear, to my dreams –

my dreams are places

you cannot go,

things I dare or cannot show,

my dreams are long forgotten faces,

my dreams are big, full, small, empty

spaces.

I go, my dear, to my dreams.

I go to my place of safety

when I’ve gone

without leaving.

I go, my dear, to my dreams.

(1995)

© Marjorie H Morgan 2017

Orchids

Orchid

Orchids have taught me patience.

I have several orchid plants in my home and I now enjoy their life cycle.

There was a time when I didn’t understand them, but I’m constantly learning about the process of transformation that comes with living with orchids.

Everybody enjoys the flowering part of the life cycle, it’s there to see and revel in. It was the part after the flowers dropped that first got me. I thought the plant was dead, but it wasn’t.
I observed the long, lonely, empty stem and the thick green leaves that looked abandoned and I wondered what I should do. With regularity I watered it lovingly along with its still flowering companion orchids. It gave me no reason for hope, I was sure that its brightest days were over but I didn’t give up on it. Why, I don’t know as I didn’t understand what was happening to it. But I treated it the same as the ones I could see blossoming.

It seemed like months later, but on one of my many moments of being fascinated by the beauty and structure of the orchid flower, I saw that the barren orchid had spouted a new stem. I was over joyed. I literally said, “Wow!” I immediately wanted to tell people about this miracle, but I held back as I reasoned they would think me slightly deranged to be so happy about a single unexpected stem on a plant.

All that time, when I couldn’t see what was happening, the orchid was growing and changing – unobserved.

When it was the right time it grew externally, so that I could see.

The blossoms are on their way again.

Not everything of great value is always on the surface.
People traditionally expound the value of ex-ercise, we should also equally value in-ercise.

Go deep, be quiet, reflect, grow and then blossom when it’s your time.

I love orchids. I always will.

© Marjorie H Morgan

I see …

I see that man
as if I have known him
our whole lives together

such an elegant figure
so broadly talented
and rarely silent
because he is bursting with strong opinions
that have to be shared

yet in the moments
of solitude that
he steals when no-one is looking
I am privy to his deep sadness
for he brought me inside his heart
so we
shared
the labyrinth of honeycomb shaped holes
that lined his soul

neither he nor I
could ever
fill them up
however hard we tried

I see the man,
as if he were me
so we
ceaselessly corral compassion
pooled
to fill him
(and me)
up

this alone
numbs
the ache
of ever-present absence
so we
are constantly love-loading
all
the hollow spaces
in between
everything we are

© Marjorie H Morgan 2017